The Prodigy
by dracosredemption99
Summary: After The Boy Who Lived is sent into a state of comatose, The Ministry falls under the control of Lord Voldemort. As the months wage on, and Voldemort's power continues to grow, the future looks bleak for the Light. Just when it appears all hope is lost, a prophecy is given, "Of Lions Mane and Serpents Tongue, an Heir shall rise that will cleanse the blood and reborn the soil."
1. Chapter 1, Part 1: Blindsided

The young woman exhaled slowly as she stepped into 12 Grimmauld Place, wrinkling her nose at amass of dust. Hermione came to believe that no matter how many _scourgify_ charms she casted, the home would never truly be clean. It was as if dust and grimed were essentials to the homes foundation, and any sign of cleanliness would result in its defeat.

Quietly she headed towards the kitchen where she could hear a multitude of voices bickering back and forth. Stopping just outside the door and suddenly wishing she had a pair of Fred and George's extendable ears.

"He's been in the damn coma for nearly twenty six weeks! We're losing men left and right, surely you can't expect us to twaddle our thumbs and ignore the pile of mounting death arriving at our stoop nearly every week!"

Hermione cringed hearing Moody's booming voice. He was right though. The Order could no longer continue living in their fantasy bubble, expecting the winning of this war to fall into their laps. Taking a quick inhale, Hermione pushed the door open, silently taking note of the empty seats and felt a pang of despair overcome her.

Fred, Charlie, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Seamus, McGonagall .

Dead.

She refused to let the tears slip. She, just like everyone in this room, had their chances to mourn. To dwell on the lives lost would result in more deaths. Squaring her shoulders a little tighter and her chin a little higher, Hermione took a seat at the end of the table beside Remus and Tonks, giving a nod of acknowledgement.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss Granger. I hope whatever made you nearly fifteen minutes late was gravely important." Moody said with a scowl, his magic eye flicking from left to right.

"Alastor, lets continue with the Agenda, shall we?" Molly Weasley quickly interjected, much to Hermione's relief. Briefly studying the woman, you would see she looked nearly five times her age. What with losing two of your children and waking up every morning knowing you were on the brink of death, it's expected.

Moody grunted in approval, giving a curt nod towards Remus who cleared his throat and stood up.

"As you all know, Tonks and I have been actively hunting down for new recruits. We managed to get in contact with Hagrid who informed us he is making progress with the Giants and Centaurs, and I'm attending another meeting with a group of recent graduates from Durmstang and their current Headmaster. We should be expecting twenty new recruits."

Small applause and excited hush tones quickly spread around the table, "That's wonderful news Remus!" Ernie Macmillian exclaimed, a few other members verbalized their agreement.

"Is there any news on Harry's condition?"

Hermione didn't anticipate for her voice to sound so cold and distant, it wasn't preventable though. The key to winning this war relied on a boy lying stagnant in the rooms above. While new recruits were indeed wonderful news, it truly meant nothing in the end if Harry never awoke.

The smiling faces soon faded, shoulders dropped, gazes fell and the room fell deafly quiet.

"No." Remus said slowly, resuming his seat. "Dumbledore is still working with Severus on determining what poison was inflicted on him."

"Ah." Was all she could muster in a reply, sinking back into the rock-hard chair.

_Great._

"Oy, 'Mione don't try to look so happy." Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, her eyes snapping up to the man down the table.

"We all know that we can't win this without Harry, but you don't need to go pour salt into the wounds! Merlin forbid we take a moment to experience a brief moment of hope at the thought of new recruits!" Ron shot back angrily, suddenly standing with his palms pressing on the table, leaning over to Hermione.

"How **dare** you Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shrieked in outcry, standing up so violently that her chair flung out from behind her and landed near the window, her eyes ablaze. "I'm the only one who's being_ realistic_! We could get forty bloody new recruits and that would still mean _**shite**_ as long as Harry is _**comatose**_!"

"Ronald sit down, enough!" Molly exclaimed, attempting to pull him back into his seat but he roughly pushed her hands away, "Bugger off Mum!" He snapped, his eyes darting back to the young, brunette witch, and realized that her hair—her bloody_ hair_ was crackling in anger. He opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped short by the far-away voice of Trelawney.

"Oh dear me.…oh yes…well….hm…" she muttered as she bumped into various pieces of furniture in the kitchen.

After the Ministry had fallen, and Dumbledore essentially being forced to flee his post, Hogwarts was under the control of The Dark Lord, Resulting in many of the teachers seeking refuge at The Order's Headquarters.

"Sybil do you mind!" Moody barked angrily, his magical eye focusing on the bubbling woman. Kingsley exhaled slowly as if he were attempting to calm his nerves.

"Oh yes….so s-sorry just wanted a s-spot of tea you s-see!" She exclaimed pitchly.

"Well get on with it will you?" he growled.

Molly quickly fluttered up, "Come Sybil I'll fetch you a spot of tea, yes?" she said as she looped her arm around Trelawney's to lead her towards the family room.

"Oh that would be lo-lovely, I just feel s-so faint….The Eye you know..." she murmured

"Yes yes dear, come." Molly interjected, her voice slightly annoyed as Trelawney stopped walking.

Trelawney stood frozen to the spot, her hands curled tightly into Molly's arm, causing to shriek in alarm. Trelawney inhaled sharply, her neck snapped back violently, and the voice that erupted was chillingly inhumane.

_"Morality shall descend upon filth and pure alike The darkness prevails and His cortege remains Ashes shall fall and plague the soil And Death shall once again be free Until The Light is born, of Lions Mane and Serpents Tongue joined as one An Heir shall rise that will cleanse the blood and reborn the soil, He shall vanquish the Darkness and emit the Light."_

The room was silent as everyone stared at Trelawney.

"Come. We must find Dumbledore." Remus stated hoarsely.

Hermione stood still, her blood going cold.

xx

Little did they know, somewhere unknown and surrounded by hooded men, a blond man fell to his knees screaming in agony to the heavens.

xx

Draco stood stiffly in line, hooded men on each of his sides. His eyes darting around briefly before coming to rest on the young man, unclothed on his knees in the middle of the circle, bent over so far his nose was crushing into the soil.

"I-I wish to join your ranks and serve you My Lord," the boy pleaded. By the sound of the boys voice Draco gathered he couldn't be more than sixteen years old.

Voldemort chuckled. "I can see that you fool." he sneered, raising his wand.

Draco's lip curled into a smirk of disgust. Such a bloody waste. He would be surprised if the boy even managed to survive the initiation-typically the young ones didn't. They were either too stupid to know when to keep their mouths shut, or they were weak.

This one just seemed weak.

When he first joined the ranks, he often suffered sleepless nights for weeks on end, and had to constantly fight the urge from vomiting during each meeting. When he joined, he expected to have power, a position, and a tramp or two on each arm.

In reality, he found himself powerless, in a joke of a rank, and he hadn't had a good rut in nearly three months.

He snorted quietly behind his mask.

'_So much for glory,_' he thought bitterly. Not batting an eyelash as the figure on the ground screamed in agony again.

The boy would learn, soon enough, that the key to surviving this initiation was to not scream. Granted, that was entirely and utterly difficult to even comprehend when your body feels as if it's simultaneously being drowned and set on fire. The key was to turn off your humanity, to force yourself to believe that the only person who mattered was yourself.

He himself had essentially managed to turn his emotions off. It was necessary for his survival. Sometimes, however, remorse and guilt would bubble to the surface, and he would quickly silence them with a bottle of the finest scotch.

"Pettigrew, come clean this mess." Voldemort commanded, pushing the bleeding, shaking boy over onto his back with his foot, his lips curling into a delighted sneer.

"Y-yes My Lord," Peter squeaked, hurrying to the boy and dragging him off to the side.

There were numerous pops of apparition, signaling the meeting was moving to the Headquarters-Malfoy Manor.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Pettigrew inflict his own form of torture on the helpless chap, before he too disapparated with a_ pop_.

He landed on the side of the drawing room, his eyes settling on Voldemort's figure sitting at the head of the table, causing him to snort bitterly as the irony dawned on him . His once safe haven was housing one of the most hypocritical, ego-maniac, murderous tyrants to ever live.

Draco slowly made his way over towards the far end of the table-silently grateful that he wasn't in a high ranking position. That ensured he could sit as far as possible from The Dark Lord, and essentially not draw attention to himself.

Merlin knows that the man looks for any excuse to torture the hell out of people, and if Draco could find a way to make it less likely to happen to him, damn right he was going to take that opportunity.

"My loyal servants...My children," Voldemort cooed, his words pleasant but his voice laced with venom.

"Some of you have so patiently waited to...have the opportunity to get into higher ranks. You have shown utmost loyalty and dare I say...Class." he mused, smirking.

"Draco, would you come join me by my right hand side?"

There was no question in his voice. It was a command. And to defy that command was to sign your death certificate.

And Draco Malfoy wasn't going to sign any time soon.

"It would be my honor, my Lord." Draco said silkily, bowing his head slightly before he walked towards Voldemort, bending and taking the hems of his robes and pressing it to his lips.

He felt the contents of his stomach churn as the smell of death and feces filled his nostrils as he kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. He sometimes wondered if Voldemort was Death himself.

Slowly, he raised himself to his full height and resumed to the designated seat.

"I believe you are most fit for this task, Draco." Voldemort drawled, his eyes focusing on him.

Draco turned his eyes to face Voldemort directly. "I live to serve, My Lord."

"Indeed." Voldemort said, his voice hinting as if he had doubts. He directed his attention to the masses at the table, "As you all are aware, Potter is as good as dead thanks to Aemilus. The only resistance we continuously meet are from Dumbledore's fools,"

There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

"And each...feeble...attack these fools make are lead by none other than their precious Mudblood. The Granger girl."

Draco felt chills erupt down his spine as Voldemort's lips curled back into what could only be described as a smile.

"Draco, your task is to capture her. Break her. Turn her into clay and form her into one of our greatest weapons. If you succeed, you will have permanently secured the position of my Second in Command. Fail, and you will wish for death."

Draco bowed his head, constructing his facial features to look as if he had been blessed with the holiest of gifts.

"As you wish, My Lord."

The remainder of the meeting passed in a blur to him. Silently thanking Snape for teaching him the fine art of feigning indifference-or rather, whatever emotion was called for.

As the meeting was dismissed, he stood and waited for everyone. Feeling a sudden sense of light headedness, which he simply concluded was from the events that had transpired over the last two hours of hell, he thought nothing of it and headed towards the door.

And suddenly his brain registered that he was falling to his knees, and indescribable waves of pain started overruling his body.

'_Is this death?_' he thought. He knew his mouth was opening, and he assumed he was screaming, he couldn't hear anything. He vomited in between screams, clenching his eyes shut. Every nerve felt like it was being torn from his body, his blood felt as if it was boiling.

A white light flashed behind his eyes, and a foreign voice filled his mind.

"_"Morality shall descend upon filth and pure alike The darkness prevails and His cortege remains Ashes shall fall and plague the soil And Death shall once again be free Until The Light is born, of Lions Mane and Serpents Tongue joined as one An Heir shall rise that will cleanse the blood and reborn the soil, He shall vanquish the Darkness and emit the Light."_

His body shook violently, his eyes barely opening. The last thing he saw was his _brothers _surrounding him, and a pair of red eyes gleaming in delight.

One last tremor shook his body, and he succumbed to darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: fateful objects

_"We all have such fateful objects - it may be a recurrent landscape in one case, a number in another - carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of specific significance for us." _  
_― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita_

* * *

Draco sat in his leather armchair, squinting his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was obvious. Somewhat.

He exhaled slowly, opened his eyes, and rested his face in his palm as he looked at the books surrounding him. He invaded his father's private Library, grabbing anything that so much as alluded to prophecy's.

For the most part, he only discovered information he already knew. However, he did manage to acquire some new information regarding them.

Such as there are different types.

The first, he learned, was called The Animus. Usually it involved one person, and it didn't bind them to anything or anyone.

The second, which is what he concluded he had experienced, was The Animi. Always involving two or more people, The Animi prophecy binded the two souls together until the prophecy has been fulfilled. He couldn't avoid it by any means. He would be drawn to her very essence.

Draco groaned.

His shoulders shrank slightly, eyeing a bottle of scotch.

He had concluded three things.

One, the Animi undoubtedly, referred to him as the Snake. It was the only logical conclusion considering he had been able to not only hear the prophecy, but had felt the searing pain of the binding magic.

Two, He was going to have an Heir that would bring Voldemort to his knees.

Three, the mother of his heir was, undeniably, on the side of light.

Draco stood, grabbed the bottle of scotch and went to stand by the bay window, reliving his conversation with The Dark Lord mere hours ago.

xx

_"My faithful…endearing….servant…you just unknowingly handed me the key to winning this war." Voldemort murmured, his eyes surveying the young man._

_"A child…your heir of all people!" Voldemort laughed "Will be the Light's deliverance?" he shook his head, lips curling in disgust. "Surely we cannot allow this to happen."_

_Draco was down on one knee before Voldemort, his head hanging. All he could focus on was not losing the contents of his stomach. "Of course not, my Lord. Any child of the Light is no child of mine."_

_"Then you realize what I'm asking you to do?"_

_"Yes, I live to serve you and only you."_

_xx_

Draco lifted the bottle and took a long swig of its contents.

Tonight would not be a night of moderation as he contemplated the two options laid before him.

Voldemort commanded him to slaughter his Heir; like a Holy sacrificial lamb, to ensure his throne.

A cold, and bitter laugh escaped his lips. Why was he even acting as if he had a choice? He never did. He gave up that right _years_ ago. The answer was sitting in front of him; mocking him. He would die going down this path. He accepted his fate, and the only thing left to do was put one foot in front of the other with his head held high.

"This means nothing," he whispered hoarsely, turning away from the window and grabbing his travelling cloak. This was nothing but self preservation. Malfoys protected their young, by any means necessary. His mother was an excellent example of this.

Floo powder began seeping through his clenched fist, Slowly raising his head, fire reflected in his defiant eyes.

"Zabini manor." he grounded out.

In that moment, Draco surrendered his soul to the Light to save his son.

xx

"Draco, what a pleasant surprise," Blaise drawled, a smirk gracing his lips. "Come come, do have a seat."

Draco gave a curt nod of acknowledgement before sitting in one of the overly plush, wing backed chairs.

"Should I be safe in assuming this is not a friendly visit?" Blaise questioned, positioning himself in the opposite chair.

"Naturally you'd be correct, old friend." Draco grinned, accepting the glass of liquor from Blaise's house elf.

"Go on, then." Blaise drawled.

Draco's jaw tightened briefly. If Blaise had any suspicions, he would be dead by morning. "I am working on a mission for The Dark Lord. I am in need of your...services." he began, his words slow and careful. "We need a false raid leaked to the Order. Specifically, I need Kingsley."

Blaise nodded. "So you need a false lead planted, basically?"

"Yes, precisely."

"When do you need this by?"

"Friday. I will be acting alone."

"I cannot make any promises, but I'll do my best. And this has been approved by The Dark Lord?"

Draco glanced down, adjusting his cuff links. "Of course. Give me a bit more credit, yeah? No one is really daft enough to make plans behind his back. That's begging for death."

Blaise eyed him for a moment, swirling the contents of his glass. "Ah, yes, but the desire of power often skews ones rational judgement, no?" he inquired, his brow raising slightly.

Draco stood, his nostrils flared and his chin raised. "If one didn't know better, Blaise, it would sound as if you're accusing me of defying The Dark Lord."

Blaise licked his lips, smirking and stood, clapping Draco in the back. "No, no. Of course not. Simply thinking out loud. Bit uptight though. When's the last time you had a decent rut?"

He smirked, inwardly sighing in relief. "Not in a long while, to say the least."

Blaise furrowed his eyebrows, "There's a revel coming up, considering your new position I can't see why The Dark Lord wouldn't give you first pickings."

Draco's face contorted into one of disgust, dismissing the idea with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. "You know I like my women willing, Zabini. And those at the revel are hardly considered willing."

"They're there on their own accord," Blaise retorted, crossing his arms.

Draco snorted as he placed his glass down on one of the cherry wood tables. "You and I both know half are filled to the brim with lust potions, and the others are nearly as crazed as my dear Aunt Bella. They simply want to snag a Dark Wizard to ensure their safety and survival. I hardly call that willing."

"No matter. You need a rut soon is all I'm saying." Blaise stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Now, tell me, am I going to get anymore information out of you regarding this mission?"

Draco felt like informing him to mind his own business-instead, he smiled. "Always the curious one, Blaise. That much hasn't changed about you."

"And I'm delighted to tell you it never will, " he smirked, raising his glass before swinging the burning contents into his mouth.

There was a fat chance in hell he was going to leave Blaise's home without giving him a decent scrap of information, and Draco felt like a fool for even considering he would've been so lucky. "If you want all my secrets Blaise, you'll have to liquor me up." his voice was flat while his hands motioned expectedly towards his empty glass. He watched as Blaise laughed and went to grab one of the glimmering, crystal cases which he suspected was filled to the brim with malt.

"Come then, spill me your darkest tale." Blaise mused, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

If he failed to convince Blaise that he was working under Voldemort's orders-his entire plan would crumble into ash. Voldemort would keep him alive long enough to carry out the prophecy, only to murder the child and stroke his ego. He wouldn't kill him outright. No, no. Draco would be made an example of what happens to traitors. He would be begging for the sweet release of Death.

And Voldemort, being a merciful Lord, would give him just that.

Eventually.

Draco smirked, raising the glass to his lips.

"It's quite simple, really. " He began slowly, eyes intent on Blaise. "Kingsley is the head of the Order. Our Dark Lord wants to ensure a cure for Potter isn't found. I am to bring Shaklebolt here and...gain...this information by any means necessary." He sipped the drink slowly, his eyes sliding shut as he savored the faint sweetness of the beer.

"Ah. And I presume you realize he will not go alone? It would be wise if you didn't attempt this on your own."

Draco's eyes shot open, a look of annoyance etched within the lines on his face. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but _you _asked _me _about the mission, no? If you insist on badgering me with useless questions I hardly see the point in me continuing..."

Blaise's eyes narrowed as he tilted his chin up in acceptance.

"Right, then. I will be bringing a few men, naturally. Only as a precaution if I am unable to single out Shacklebolt. The Dark Lord isn't interested in any others except Shacklebolt, so whoever he brings can be taken out-" Draco snapped his fingers, a small scrap of paper and quill appeared before him. He snagged the materials and scribbled down a pair of digits.

_55°57′11″N 3°11′20″W_

"-and this is where the 'raid' will be taking place. If you as so much mess up _one _coordinate The Dark Lord will have your head served on a silver platter, do you understand? Finding Saint Potter and ridding of him once and for all is essential in ensuring our Lord's reign." Draco said slowly, surveying the man before him as he handed him the coordinates, and stood.

"Friday."

Draco nodded. "Friday."

Blaise cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll see to it that the false lead is planted."

"Good. I will be in contact soon." Draco drawled, before going to the fireplace and flooing to Malfoy Manor.

xx

Draco exhaled slowly, eyes scanning his bedroom as his facade fell. "Dreamless sleep..." he murmured, heading to his bedside and wrenching open the side-draw, revealing endless, empty bottles of the potion. "Must brew some more.." he groaned, flinging his hand into the back until he gripped a nearly empty bottle. 'This will have to do for tonight.' he thought, his stomach clenching. He ripped the cork free, swung the contents back, and laid on his side, still clothed in his travelling attire.

'I only can pray to the Gods my death will be swift' was the last thought to stumble across his mind before falling into a lull of velvet darkness.

xx

A hooded figure stumbled through the flames, sputtering and knocking over a pile of pots and pans-resulting in nearly every Order member ramming into the cookery, wands drawn. "HALT! Reveal yourself!" Moody roared, his magical eye flicking notoriously as he focused on the crumpled figure.

Slowly, the man stood, his hands in front of him. "I have news." he stated, bringing his hood down.

"They're planning a fake raid to capture Kingsley." Blaise stated, his eyes hard.

**_To Be Continued..._ **

* * *

**a/N: **

Sorry for the delay. My husband and I had a very brief moment of celebration-We found out I was pregnant. Shortly after finding out, I, sadly, had a chemical pregnancy and we lost the baby. Following DH advice, I'm immersing myself in books and writing.

I also apologize for how flat the first chapter was. This story is going to have a slow build up. Action will start in the next chapter.

Thank you for all the reviews, they mean the world to me :)


	3. Chapter 3: Tea is Normality

_If you're visual like me, here's a photo of the dress: fs71/PRE/i/2013/208/1/f/danielle_white_dress_6_by_ _

* * *

He stood in a circle of dirt, his fingers immediately shot to his side only to discover his wand gone.

"Odd.." Draco murmured, straightening.

He discovered he was in the middle of a golden meadow, encased with hills of Red Poppy flowers. A small river was to his right, and the only sound to be heard were the soft whispers of wind and occasional song bird.

He began walking through the field, his fingers caressing over the tall grass and flowers. He hadn't felt this light...this carefree in years. A sudden movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention, and the sight resulted in his breath hitching.

Upon the hillside, he saw what appeared to be himself-with a woman who's face he could not see-fawning over a cooing bundle. His mouth went dry, and the all-to-familiar pain clenched deep within his chest. He watched himself lean in to kiss the woman as the image slowly faded and a new one formed.

He was chasing a small, blonde toddler who was giggling madly.

"Daddy's too slow!" the child squealed as his father scooped him up, rolling around in the grass. Slowly, they faded into nothing as Draco's hand shot out, as if begging them to stay.

He was too entranced by the fading scene to realize a figure appeared behind him, it's angelic voice breaking the tranquility.

_"Down the path along side the lake_  
_A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake_  
_His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew..." _

Chills ran down his spine, his feet slowly moving to turn around. Something within him reasoned this was the woman the prophecy spoke of; the mother of his heir. She was petite, long, elegant chestnut brown curls cascaded down her back. She was clothed in a long, flowing white dress. The bottom layered in chiffon and edges trimmed in lace, the sleeves were layered in lace and fell across her shoulders, revealing the slender curve of her neckline.

Draco didn't blink. He dared not to breathe. He needed to see her face-he felt compelled to touch her-be near her. He wanted to drown in her very essence and never be found again. He inhaled a slow, ragged breath as he stood directly behind her-too far to touch but close enough to become intoxicated by her scent.

But it was if she didn't even know he was so incredibly close to her, for she continued to sing as she harvested flowers.

_""Take me in oh tender woman_  
_Take me in, for heaven's sake_  
_Take me in oh tender woman," sighed the snake"_

"Snake?" Draco murmured, his eyes narrowed in confusion, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm-but she was already walking further into the meadow, heading towards a trail near the woods.

_"Now she clutched him to her bosom, 'You're so beautiful,' she cried_  
_'But if I hadn't brought you in by now you might have died'_  
_Now she stroked his pretty skin and then she kissed and held him tight"_

He followed her without hesitation, their pace changing from walking to a run. The sun's warmth was soon swallowed by the thickness of forest that now engulfed them both-Draco found himself leaping over fallen, rotten logs and ducking beneath low, piercing branches. Desperately, he tried to keep up with her-"Wait! Please! I won't hurt you!" his voice was ragged, his boots crushing the soil beneath them.

Draco stopped, his eyes wide.

She was on her knees in the middle of a small opening encased by trees, dark light seeping through the ragged branches, illuminating her small body. Her voice had lost it's one sweet tone, for now it dripped of despair, anguish and betrayal. Her head was bowed, covered by her hair, her body slowly moving with each intake of breath after every note she sang.

_"But instead of saying thanks, that snake gave her a vicious bite,_

_'I saved you,'  
'And you've bit me even, why?  
You know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die'  
'Oh shut up, silly woman,' said the reptile with a grin  
'You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in  
'Take me in, oh tender woman  
Take me in, for heaven's sake  
Take me in oh tender woman,' sighed the snake"_

"No-no!" Draco's voice was laced with mortification and anger "I made my choice, and my choice is death!" he roughly shoved aside the branches in his path, falling to his knees in front of the woman, his hand shaking as he tilted her chin up to face him.

His body shot back in horror as her eyes snapped open, revealing nothing but white. Her body slowly rose, levitating above him and the trees around them erupted into flames.

Draco was on his back, scrambling away from the woman, frozen in sheer utter terror.

"How could you, Snake?!" Her voice shrieked, her curls flying madly around her.

She swooped down suddenly, flying around Draco as if he were prey and she a hawk. "I saved you and in turn you give me Death? I should've let you rot, for evil like you deserve no redemption from darkness, and for this you will pay!"

He gathered himself on his knees, smoke invading his lungs from the burning forest. "No no no, I would do no such thing! Please I swear to you!"

"Lying, filthy Snake!" She bellowed, and as she swooped in the air and dove before him, Draco saw flames beginning to lick at his sides and-

"NO!" Draco shot up in his bed, his breathing hollow and ragged, body dripping in sweat.

"Master? Is Master Malfoy alright?" a small, bright eyed house-elf popped into the room, shaking hands holding a silver tray covered in various breakfast foods.

'_A dream...a dream..._' Draco thought hastily, his eyes darting around before settling on the small creature before him. "Yes, Libby. I am fine. Thank you"

"Oh good because Libby heard Master screaming in his sleep and was worried for him." Libby chirped cheerfully as she placed the tray beside him, and yanked open the heavy, red curtains.

"Does Master need anything else of Libby?"

"No, no you've done enough. Thank you." Draco responded quietly as he stood from the bed.

As soon as Libby departed, Draco quickly gave himself a one-over. His lungs ached as if they had been inhaling nothing but smoke. "Need a Pepper-Up Potion" he muttered.

He turned his left wrist over, feeling the blood draining from his face.

_Snake._

It looked as if it had been dug raggedly into his skin by someone's nails. The words were sloppy, ugly, and ultimately, were screaming at him.

_Murderer._

Draco fel, and stalked over to his wardrobe. Yanking on a pair of black slacks, a white button down, and a heavy black robe. He stood in front of his door, and rolled his shoulders. Now was not the time to mull over the dream or the scar. He had work to do.

He exhaled slowly, cooled his expression, and opened the doors.

xx

Hermione groaned, stretching her stiff muscles.

"Well good morning," Ginny pipped up, her legs crossed as she perched at the end of the bed.

"I feel like I got hit by a train," Hermione muttered, pushing herself into an upright position.

"Not surprising, you were moaning and tossing in your sleep. Woke me up!" Ginny said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh...sorry. I had this really absurd dream." Hermione stated, before climbing out of bed.

Ginny shrugged. "Had to get up anyways. Mum called breakfast thirty minutes ago and knowing Ron he already bloody ate everything, so we best get a move on."

Hermione stifled a laugh and nodded. "I'll be down in a minute,"

Ginny gave a short nod before heading out the door, "RON! You best left us something!" her voice bellowed, "OI! It's not my bloody fault you don't come when mum calls!" Ron yelled as Hermione closed her bedroom door, and leaned against it.

She trailed her finger across her palm, and down to her wrist, biting her lip at the sight of red scratch marks.

It was so...odd. The dream. She recalled seeing a small toddler playing with a man, and vaguely recalled a child swaddled...

But there was something else that happened which she couldn't quite recall, and she was sure she'd drive herself mad trying to remember.

She shook her head and pushed herself away from the door, threw on a pair of jeans and her favorite jumped, and headed downstairs.

As always, the kitchen was loud and buzzing with life. Molly was scolding Ron to chew his food instead of inhaling it, George was talking about a new set of prank toys he was working on, Arthur was muttering about something in The Prophet and how The Quibbler was more reliable, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Blaise were huddled together, talking back and forth in hushed angry tones. Everyone else was soaking in the sun that seeped through the windows, filling their bellies with warm sausage, and revelling in the fact they lived another day.

The only thing missing was Harry.

Her heart clenched in her chest for a brief moment, forcing herself to take the seat beside Kingsley.

"Good Morning Miss Granger," Kingsley greeted.

Hermione offered a smile, "Good Morning."

She reached over and grabbed the tea, pouring a small cup.

Milk. two sugars.

"Never imagined Granger to be a bit of sweet-tooth," Blaise commented dryly. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in ages. The deep lines riddling his face made him appear far older than he truly was. He looked as if he was a man teetering on the edge of oblivion, who held on by frayed threads.

"Good Morning to you too, Blaise." Hermione replied mockingly. "I see nothing wrong with indulging in a few simple pleasantries. Tea brings a sense of normality, while there is normality there is hope-sue me for wanting to sweeten the pot a bit."

Blaise smirked, "So easy to rile up, you are. No wonder Malfoy always targeted you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, before taking a long sip of the tea, her eyes falling shut as she savored the delicate taste. She knew Blaise wasn't being malicious, it was normal banter between them since he had defected The Deatheaters and switched to the Light.

"I suppose you'd like to be informed of the plan?"

"Oh, yes! Of course." Her eyes flew open, placing her cuppa down.

"Malfoy is planning a false raid, in an attempt to capture Kingsley. From what he told me, he will be bringing a small team and they've been given orders to kill at will."

Hermione nodded, that much she had expected. There weren't very many of them left, and it only made sense to want to wipe them out entirely.

Blaise grabbed a piece of parchment from his pocket, and beckoned Hermione to come closer. "These are the teams Kingsley, Moody and I devised last night. Our goal is to capture as many of them alive as possible, to hopefully find out what's wrong with Potter. We're going to have three teams of four. You'll be in the front end team with me, Moody, Tonks and Remus. Weasley, Molly, Michael, and Justin are in group two and will follow behind us, and Kingsley, Angelina, Longbottom, and Lovegood are in the last sector and will be covering our sides."

"When do we attack?" Hermione questioned, snatching the parchment as she searched for any flaws in the plan.

"Friday, 6PM. Malfoy will be arriving shortly after. I'll be trying to find out who he'll be bringing with him, however I feel we will be fine."

Blaise cleared his throat, studying the woman who stared at the parchment intently. "Are you ready for this?"

Hermione's eyes shot up, "Why wouldn't I be?" she demanded accusingly.

"With Potter being out-"

"Enough Blaise, enough. I've never been one to sit and mope when something terrible happens. Of course I'm ready." Hermione snapped, her eyes narrowed.

Blaise nodded slowly. "Good. We need you for this to work."

"I know Blaise, I know."

* * *

**a/N: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for the reviews, they truly encourage me!


	4. Chapter 4: Lolita

"Words without experience are meaningless."

The words were screaming at him-As in, 'Turn back you fool, while you still have a chance!'

Draco snorted.

He lost that chance when he told Blaise to plant a false lead.

He stood from the leather couch, placing Lolita in his extended-charmed bag. Among Lolita were various other books ranging from ancient dark magic, to the extensive history of the Malfoy line. The second layer of the bag contained various articles of clothing, a few-ahem-generously sized sacks filled with galleons, a map with the location of one of his secret-kept villas-just encase anything went wrong,-which Draco mused, something probably would go wrong-and at the very bottom, cradled in forest green velvet-was his mother's ring.

She had given it to him years ago, which was her not-so-subtle hint of 'Time to settle down soon,'

And in return, Draco had given her a not-so-subtle response of 'Fat chance in hell'

If he did survive-and this was a very big if-he was still a Malfoy. And Malfoy's made the mother of their children honest women. Regardless of the circumstances.

So whoever this woman was, she'd inherit the Malfoy name and his mother's ring.

Draco had yet to determine what the dreams could mean, or who the mother of his Heir could be. Frankly, he had figured out squat regarding the prophecy as a whole, which left the door wide open for Chaos to waltz right in.

He stood in front of the fireplace, bag shrunk down and tucked deep within his pockets, and grabbed a fistfull of floo powder.

His lips curled into a smirk, "Time to greet Chaos," he mused, and stepped into the fire.

xx

Draco stood in the middle of an abandoned shack that swayed and moaned with each burst of wind. Various pieces of decaying furniture lay scattered across the floor, the smell of mildew and unwashed linens smothered the air, causing him to grimace in disgust.

He hadn't been here since he was a small boy. When his mother and father would go away on extended business trips-which Draco now knew to actually be Revels-the houselves would take him here to teach him how to essentially take care of himself. In this very room he had learned how to read, prepare simple meals with magic, and had mastered his first warming charm.

As he grew, he began spending less and less time with them. Viewing them as nothing more but servants rather than companions.

Quickly, he ducked out through the back door, eyeing the small Scottish village laid before him. Withdrawing his wand, Draco muttered a quick "relinquo!" The few people roaming the streets looked up suddenly, as if they had remembered something extremely important, and retreated into their homes.

After all, this was his death sentence. Not theirs. No need for innocent blood to be spilled.

Seconds after casting the spell, numerous popping sounds erupted around him-One by one, Dolohov, Greyback, The Carrows, his aunt and uncle, and ten other masked men appeared around him.

"Drakey, my darling nephew..." Bellatrix cooed, swaying over to Draco with haughty, lustful eyes.

Bile grew in the back of his throat as he cocked a smile. "Dear Aunt Bella, so glad you could make it." Draco said silkily, pressing his lips against her extended, limp hand.

Bella released a shrieking giggle, patting Draco's cheek. "Yes yes, when will the fun be arriving?" she inquired, pressing the tip of her wand against her own cheek coyly.

"Soon, Aunt Bella, Soon." Draco responded, motioning for the group to follow him to their designated positions.

xx

"There is no room for error today," Kingsley's voice rose from the middle of the room, demanding attention.

"Today is when we reclaim the upper hand in this war. And I see the same fear in your eyes I saw in your mothers and fathers in the first war-fear that evolved into courage. Today I'm asking you to call upon that courage and help the Light reclaim the Earth, to diminish the darkness and bring justice to those who have hurt the innocent, stolen our liberties, murdered our families, our lovers, our children-I'm asking you to call upon the courage to reclaim your life or die trying."

Hermione felt a chill rage through her body, her eyes fixated on Kingsley. A few years ago, she would've thought such a speech to be excessive-but now with each raid, there were many of them who would not return to the safety of this home, but rather the welcoming embrace of being folded thirty feet under soil.

"Our main objective is to bring Draco Malfoy back alive. He carries knowledge that will determine if we win or lose this war. However, if it is between your life and his, your life comes first. Under no circumstances allow yourself to be murdered in cold blood purely for today's raid. Am I clear?"

The room erupted with "Aye!"

"Good. Split into your groups and head to your designated portkeys."

Hermione pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, covering the unbelievable mane of curls.

"Glad to see you've decided to stick around," Blaise whispered in her ear.

Hermione jumped, clearly startled out of her train of thought as she whipped around, her wand pressing into the side of Blaise's neck.

He sneered, pushing her wand down. "If you're this jumpy on the field you'll be dead within minutes." He commented, cocking an eyebrow.

Her shoulders sagged, as she shook her head and her eyes fixed into one of rage. "The death eaters won't be wasting time sneaking behind me and breathing down my neck." she shot back, glaring.

"Oh loosen up a bit, yeah? Imagine dying angry. Would be such a waste. That Weasley bloke had the right idea by laughing into the afterlife."

"How dare you-"

He put a finger against her lips, dropping his lips to her ear again, "You're too easy to rile up." before spinning on his heel towards the portkey.

Oh how that man drove her absolutely mad! He knew exactly how to push her buttons-and every time she promised she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of becoming livid-and essentially blasting his bullocks off-she failed. Miserably.

And Hermione Granger never failed at anything.

Which only infuriated her more.

With clenched teeth and hand gripping her wand, she stalked over and stood beside Blaise, eyeing who else was in their group.

Madeye, Remus, Tonks, and Molly.

"On the count of three," Madeye grunted.

Each of their hands reached out, hovering above the portkey,

"One..."

"Two..."

Hermione felt the breath get sucked out of her lungs as she was launched into the portkey, her insides being squeezed into unimaginable proportions, feeling as if her body was being ripped into smaller and smaller pieces.

Her body slammed into the hard, cobblestone ground. Her massive head of curls spilled out around her from under her hood, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

Why did it hurt so much to breathe?

Why couldn't she move?

Slowly she peeled her eyes opened, nothing was in focus. She raised her hand to her head before bringing it before her eyes.

Red. Sticky.

Blood.

She felt the warm, sticky mess begin trickling down her neck.

Excessively, too.

What the bloody hell happened?

xx

Draco's eyes snapped to the sound of a sickening thud land in the middle of the road behind them.

No, no. It's too early-they shouldn't be arriving for two more minutes!

His heart pounded, threatening to burst from his chest.

"Oh look Drakey, the fun has arrived early!" Bella cooed, pushing Draco aside as her hungry eyes landed on Hermione. "Look, look it's Potter's mudblood!" She shrieked gleefully as she began to stalk towards Hermione's seemingly still body.

'Shit, shit shit' were the only thoughts racing through Draco's mind as he quickly caught up to Bella, "Remember the plan, Aunt Bella." Draco chided, giving a warning look to the other men behind him who only returned a sneer.

'Why is she the only one here? Surely Blaise wouldn't-'

In a matter of seconds multitudes of popping sounds and white fog erupted in the square.

Blaise crouched in front of Hermione's body, his face twisted into one of possessive rage as he shot off a range of curses, sending Bellatrix's body flying backwards and slamming into the side of a building.

Draco's attention snapped from his Aunt's shrieks of rage to Blaise gingerly lifting Hermione over his shoulder as he dueled with his free hand against Dolohov.

"No fucking way." Draco breathed in disbelief before being flung into the cobblestone by a stray curse.

He struggled to stand, his balance was off and his vision temporarily blurry. 'The plan, the plan...' his thought desperately trying to regain his footing and control.

All he could hear were shouts of rage, orders, curses whizzing by and shrieks of agony. The square had quickly turned from something of tranquility, to one of a bloodbath.

His fingers gripped into the side of the wall, pushing himself roughly away as he heard more popping sounds.

Shit.

The Deatheaters that swaggered forward towards Blaise and Granger weren't the rookies he had enlisted.

They were the Inner Circle. Also affectionately referred to as the ICD.

When the Inner Circle came for you, you were fucked.

You were fucked harder than a Knockturn Alley whore, to the point where you best kiss your rosary and pray to the God's for forgiveness because there was no way in hell you were escaping alive.

One by one Draco watched the Order members fall. They weren't prepared for the Inner Circle. They were prepared for some rookies, lower circle Death Eaters, and the trainers.

His plan wasn't going to happen. His thoughts raced rapidly, desperate to find a solution.

His eyes locked onto one of the ICD's making his way towards Blaise and Granger, and that's when Draco's eyes glazed over.

He found his solution.

Draco ripped through the crowd, slamming stunning charms to his left and his right to make it appear he were clearing a pathway for the Inner Circle Deatheaters. He had seconds to do this, and if he missed his window of opportunity, he'd be fucked.

"Stupefy," Draco hissed, his wand pressed into the ICD's back. Draco whipped around, throwing the curse at Blaise who slammed into the ground, Hermione laying motionless on top of him.

"Draco! DRACO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING-" Bellatrix's screeches only pushed his legs faster as Draco skidded to their bodies, grabbing them both as he whipped his portkey out of his pocket, and the bloodbath was sucked away from sight.

It was a startling contrast. Draco was crouched in the middle of a luxurious, tanned stone room. The sweet smell of ocean air drifted in and out of the room through the large, open balcony where sea-blue chiffon curtains draped over the front and drifted in and out with the breeze.

So the plan failed miserably.

But he wasn't empty handed and had wagering material.

Draco exhaled slowly, dragging his hand down his face. "Wingardium Leviosa," Draco murmured, moving Blaise onto the large King sized bed. His eyes turned to Granger and he grimaced. Not wanting to risk her any more damage, he bent down and scooped her up over his shoulder. Her mane of curls batting furiously in his face-"You're a damn witch and can't tame this bloody mess!" He exclaimed angrily as he stalked out of the room.

The halls were filled with various first edition portraits, ranging from Monet, Picasso, and Michelangelo. Amongst the timeless pieces were painted portraits of Malfoy decedents and their children-and one in particular with his beloved Pygmypuff.

He entered a room on the far left, that also smelled of sweet ocean breeze. A large King bed sat in the middle, laced with a delicate, cream chiffon canopy. A large white armoire sat in the corner alongside a white desk. On the opposite side of the wall, bookcases were lined seemingly endlessly, leading to an open balcony.

This would do.

And if it didn't, frankly, he didn't give a damn.

Gently he placed her down on the bed and murmured a few charms to cleanse the blood from her body. His fingers curled behind her head, feeling for the wound.

He pulled his hand back, finding it covered in blood.

Shit.

Turning her on her side, Draco quickly muttered a few healing charms, watching as the gaping wound stitched itself at the back of her head. "Accio blood replenishing potion!" Draco grunted, watching as the clear bottle swung around the corner and into his hand. Ripping the cork off with his teeth, he tilted Hermione's head back.

"Bottom's up, Granger." he smirked, parting her bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly poured the potion down her throat, coaxing her the way.

Standing once more, he gave a quick glance at her clothes.

"Not s chance in hell." He muttered, before waving his wand for the blankets to come up to her chin, storming out of the room and into the downstairs lounge.

Draco poured himself a shot of whiskey, raising it to his lips.

"Here's to being fucked, mate."

And swung the contents back.


End file.
